Page 156 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

He paused ever so slightly, studying her as if looking for a deeper meaning to the question. Which reminded her of what had keptherup most of the night and made her cheeks warm.

She thought she recognized amusement in his gaze, but his expression remained neutral enough to pretend like she was imagining things.

“Yes, I suppose I did,” he said, approaching her desk, then taking a chair and pulling it up across from her.

Silence stretched out, and Amelia had to swallow because even though she tried not to, she seemed to be reliving that kiss right here. The soft give of his mouth, the hard lines of his body, the way it had fizzled through her like a dangerous liquid she only wanted more of.

“Can I help you this morning?” She tried to keep her smile in place, but it became more of a grimace as she heard the squeak in her own voice.

He leaned back in the chair, folded his arms behind his head. “I have come to do your bidding.”

“My…” Her brain short-circuited for a moment. What exactly was her bidding? Playing games? Last night? Something…else?

“You did want me here for the Christmas ball, did you not?” he asked, just a littletoopointedly.

“Yes, the ball. Yes.” She forced another smile at him that she hoped looked in control and as if she were humoring him with just adashof condescension. “I’m hoping you’ll attend of course.”

“That is the plan, as it stands. But it is not for some time yet. Surely there is much to do to prepare. I seem to recall my mother running about, pulling out her hair, the weeks before.”

“Yes, she did often get…overwhelmed.” Amelia had always felt Mrs. Folliero simply enjoyed any reason to be dramatic, to yell at the people who worked for her, while having a simple excuse like the ball so she didn’t need toreallyapologize.

Father had explained to her, in his gentle way, that sometimes Mrs. Folliero needed some attention, and that was the only way she knew how to go about getting it.

Amelia studied Diego. She wondered how many of his issues were simply from notknowing. How to get the attention he wanted, or the care, or whatever it was.

Surely growing up pampered had left some lessons fully unlearned. Just as Mrs. Folliero hadn’t known how to behave when she wanted attention. She hadn’t known to justask. She’d had to create drama.

So Diego didn’t know how to be good, or heal, or feel his guilt. He needed her to teach him.

“So put me to work,” Diego said, spreading his big hands wide on the desk between them.

“To…work,” Amelia echoed, her thoughts scattering as she took in howbighis hands were. That there were calluses and scars because he had been physically punishing himself for two years.

What would it feel like to have rough, scarred hands on her bare skin?

He leaned forward, that same amusement sparkling in his eyes while his face showed none of it. “Is your hearing all right this morning?”

Amelia did not understand what had changed. She did not know how toacceptthis change. Was it some kind of trick? It certainly couldn’t be a genuine change of heart already.

Could it?

No. He was…playing a game. And she could certainly play back. She ignored his question about her hearing, swallowed her hammering heart and clasped her hands over her notebook. “Yes, there is much already in place, but much to do to ensure it all goes smoothly. We have a kind of theme this year.” She looked from her notebook to him, making sure to meet his gaze and hold it.

“As it’s the first Christmas ball since we’ve lost them, I wanted to honor Christmases past. Both nostalgic, but also a kind of…memorial. To what we lost.” She watched him carefully. His expression betrayed no feeling on the matter.

“I’m sure that will appeal to many guests,” he said genially. “My parents had many friends.”

“And you want…to have a role in that?” she asked, not bothering to hide her suspicion. “Creating an homage to the past?”

“Wantis not the word I would use, Amelia, but yes. I will have a role in this. I will be here at least until the Christmas ball, as you originally suggested.” His smile was polite. His words a clipped kind of disinterested, but not rude. Sort of blank, like it mattered not at all to him, no matter what they did.

But it had to matter. Somewhere deep down, she was sure ithadto matter. They were talking about honoring his parents, his sister. Perhaps they had not had the best relationship, but surely memorializing them would mean something to him.

And if he was giving her the opportunity to reach that place inside him where the past mattered, she had to grab it with both hands. For his own good and healing.

“I’ve based the menu and decor on what I remember and what records I’ve been able to find, but we could go through my plans and see if they match your memories.”

“What about my mother’s records?”